


Unicorn flu

by Sparrowthewriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Brief sabriel mention, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean gets cursed, M/M, Sickfic, dean is sick, everyone knows, of their shit, rowena knows, sam is sick too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22554433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowthewriter/pseuds/Sparrowthewriter
Summary: When dean gets hit with a mysterious, ancient illness from a witch, rowena tells him the only cure is an Angel's purifying kiss, deciding cas is the best (and only) candidate they summon him.That's when cas kisses dean.And everything goes wrong.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Unicorn flu

_"Fuck!"_

Sam turned at the sound of his brother, still seeing the remnants of the dust that had fallen on him. Dean lurched back, coughing and waving his hand frantically to dispose of the powder getting lodged into his throat.

The witch growled, fist clenching in anger, "you bloody moron! Dont you know how long that hex takes to make?!" She yelled, "those are rare ingredients!"

Dean coughed again, "yeah and? As if we care you stupid bitch-"

"Dean." Sam warned.

"Listen to your brother, idiot, you're still in my house." The witch narrowed her eyes.

The room fell into a silence besides Dean's subtle coughing, still trying to dislodge the itching in his throat.

The woman's anger slowly manifested into a smirk, giving dean a once over. "Oh, I should mention, coughing won't scratch the itch dear, in fact not much will."

Dean hated riddles, and witches, and the stupid burning in his goddamn throat. "What do you mean," he asked, more of a demand than a question.

She let out a laugh, "what I mean is, the hex you just knocked onto yourself? Not so easily curable."

Dean let his eyes roll, oh please, as if they hadn't found cures for so called 'incurable' things before. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhm, in fact, there's only one, small, minute thing that can fix your problem," she bounced on her heels once.

"Don't suppose you'd be kind enough to tell us what it is?" 

"Well considering you broke into my house unprompted, broke several of my jars of important ingredients and then spilled a very very rare hex that took me years to collect and make onto yourself, I'd say.. no." 

Right, of course it's not that easy.

Its never that easy.

"But, I'm sure you boys can figure it out," she said, smiling, though it was laced with amusement and smugness, "best be off, the spell takes effect rather fast, its fatal you know?"

"Sure it is."

"I'm not lying," she said quickly, "leave it for about.. a week and you'll be dead, possibly earlier depending on your willpower."

"Why tell us that?" Sam cut in, gun still drawn. "Isnt that helping?'

She smiled plainly, glancing down at the gun and back up at him, "it's not help, its entertainment for myself, I have very little of that spell left, might as well get my troubles worth." 

Sam held for a moment before lowering his gun, sighing, "fine, we'll leave, and we won't come back, but tell us how to fix it."

The witch narrowed her eyes, flicking quickly between both brothers, before shaking her head, "no, sorry, can't do that, it'd ruin the fun for all of us." 

"Fun!? Alright listen you son of a b-" the sentence didn't get far being cut off by violent coughing, if dean didn't know any better he'd coughed up a lung.

Another resounding cackle made its way out of the witch, "I did tell you! Fatal, off you both pop before I curse you too," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Sam. 

What followed was the two actually leaving, making their way to the impala, which had been parked outside.

"Goddamn it!" Dean yelled, clearly resisting the urge to both punch something and hack up his other lung.

Sam made a face, rubbing his arm, "maybe I should drive tonight," he said, holding his hand out for the keys expectantly.

Dean looked at Sam's hand, back up to his face, and huffed in protest before breaking out once again in coughs, clutching his chest and throat.

Sam winced, "I don't think you should've breathed it in."

"Yeah you think?"

Sam rolled his eyes and kept his hand out, nodding when dean eventually slapped them into his hand, "thank you."

Dean grunted and sat himself angrily in the passenger seat, crossing his arms like a child who didn't get their way.

The drive back to the bunker was quiet, Sam didn't really want music, he needed to think, mostly about what the witch had said and what to do.

Dean snored next to him, chest sometimes heaving during a particularly hard intake of air, no doubt dean was catching an illness, but why would something similar to a cold have such 'rare ingredients'?

Sam continued to ponder his own questions as he pulled up into the bunkers garage, nudging dean to wake him.

His brother woke with a loud groan of protest, blinking a few times before exiting the car, swaying slightly on his feet.

Okay, so dean definitely wasn't just suffering a normal cold.

Inside dean wanted to retreat to his room, and sleep for a million years, but of course Sam wouldn't let him, something about monitoring him for symptoms or some bullshit like that.

"Cmon Sam I'm tired, I need to sleep." Dean complained loudly, slumping in his chair, his head taking on a dull ache.

"Yeah, right, look we don't know what this is yet, for all we know you could wake up with an extra arm," sam stated, "until we know what this curse is I'm keeping an eye on you."

Dean, of course, was unhappy with that answer, and groaned again.

"Keep complaining it's not gonna change my mind."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Another hour of huffing and trying to stay awake passed and dean quickly grew tired, really tired, normally it would be cause for alarm but at this point he couldn't bring himself to care. 

Sam had re-appeared, after agreeing to let dean rest on the couch in 'Dean's cave's, he'd vanished to the library and stayed there, combing through book after book on this curse.

"Nothing?" Dean asked sleepily, blinking rapidly as some light from the other room came in.

He sighed as Sam shook his head, still flicking through an old book. "Nothing, but I do have an idea."

An idea? Wow don't hurt yourself, dean thought, nodding at him to continue.

"We call Rowena, she should know what's up with you, maybe she knows the cure too?"

That he hadn't thought off, but hey worth a shot right?

"Yeah okay, let's get her" he grumbled, pulling himself up off the couch and following Sam into the library. 

The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the quiet room, only interrupted by Dean's coughing, before a click was heard. "Hello?"

"Hey rowena" Sam started, smiling, "we uh- dean got cursed during a hunt, she said it was fatal? But it just looks like a cold to me.." he said.

"Was it a powder?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Silver, thick and sparkly?"

"Yup."

"Ah, right, well dean your not gonna like this," she hummed, hearing a page turn from her side.

Oh god what was it gonna be this time, "what? Is it curable?"

"Oh yes, very curable," dean is almost 100% sure he can hear a smirk in her voice. 

"Then what's this curse and its 'very curable' cure?"

More shuffling of paper, and a small giggle, "it's called _γρίπη μονόκερου_ , or in English, the unicorns flu."

The what?

"Huh?" Sam said, confusion filtering across his face. "Never heard of it."

"Oh that's normal, it's a centuries old curse, unheard of for ages, I wasn't even aware you could still make it." Rowena said, sounding fascinated.

"Alright then.. what's the cure?"

A pause, silence, and then rapid flipping of pages. "Rowena?"

"Like i said, you're not gonna like it-"

"Just, tell us."

"Well, the one and only cure for the unicorns flu is…"

Another pause.

"An Angel's kiss."

_Shit._


End file.
